Emmalyn Southers Isn't in North Carolina Anymore
by donmesswitpanda
Summary: She doesn't know how she got here, but all she knows is she wants to go back home. Sure, living in the world of your favorite t.v show may seem like an awesome thing, but Emma can tell you it most certainly isn't. She misses her family and friends and will do anything to get them back. Maybe with the help of Sherlock Holmes and his Companion, Dr. John Watson, she has a chance.
1. Preface

**A/N: Hello Sherlock fandom! This is my first ever published fanfiction, and i do hope you enjoy it. This is NOT an OC/Sherlock fic. It's More like heavily implied JohnLock tbh. Contructive critisism is much appreciated. Story is currently unbeta'd. Author is American also, sorry.**

 **Emmalyn Southers isn't in North Carolina Anymore**

Prologue

The first word that runs into her mind is _wet,_ and then a phrase itself is produced from that on word. _The ground I'm lying on is wet._ Another thought is soon placed into her thoughts. _My head is throbbing. Painful. Head wound? Could explain my troubles in remembering the events that lead me to lying on this cold, wet, unforgiving ground._ Carefully, and without opening her eyes, she begins to shift through her memories.

 _My name is Emmalyn Trinity Southers. My friends call me Emma. Who are my friends again? A thought to look back at again later. I live in Fayetteville, North Carolina. I've lived there for twelve years, when we moved from London when I was six. Why did we move?_ She hears voices speaking above her, panicked and loud in her fragile ears. _I'm a senior at Cumberland County High School. I have perfect grades and lead in every single one of my classes._

"Lestrade! I think the poor girl's alive!" _Lestrade? The name is familiar. Why is it familiar? A t.v show? Doctor Who? Supernatural? Smallville? Law and order? Sherlock? Sherlock. Lestrade is the D.I inspector for Scotland yard in BBC's Sherlock. He is a fictional character. Marilou loves him. Marilou is one of the above mentioned friends that call me Emma. I last saw her before I wake up here._ The air is so cold that it's biting against her skin. She takes in a quick deep breath. This alerts the people that stand around her like she's a museum attraction.

"Bloody hell John, get her an ambulance! Quick!" _John Watson? This is getting down right ridiculous. This has to be a dream, it has to. Not even Marilou could pull off a prank like this._

"Do we even know how she got here? Sherlock believes she was pushed off a building. It's not entirely impossible. Then again, she should be dead if that was the case."

"Well I would say It was a murder that took place on ground level," Pipes up another extremely british and posh voice. _I swear to god this keeps getting weirder. Lestrade, John ,_ and _Sherlock._ "But there is no evidence supporting that either." Sherlock's voice actually sounds joyful at the thought of this being a potential attempted murder. _Asshole, this is a delicate situation._ John seems to agree with her inner thoughts.

She still refuses to open her eyes.

"Sherlock-" John's voice is drowned out by a sudden flood of thought. _That's right, Marilou wanted me to re-watch Sherlock with her. Naturally I do, and we make plans for the Friday after midterms. We stay at her house for the marathon. But why am I here? Shouldn't I be on the cot her dad had out for me? My sleep was calm, the dream being that I was falling gracefully through the air. I have these dreams quite often. Why are there fictional characters hovering above me and shouting frantically. A dream, this must be a dream. I can't be hallucinating all this. I stopped smoking weed ages ago. I'm quite positive Marilou didn't share her stash. The fumes must be getting to me._

Fear grips tight inside her, twisting around in her stomach. Without thinking really, her hazel eyes fly open in a state of extreme panic. Without really noticing she was lifted from the uncomfortably hard ground to a gurny, which is now in a moving vehicle. No wonder she stopped hearing John and Sherlock bicker back and forth. An I.V bag swings above her head as the vehicle hits a particular rough bumb in the road. There's two paramedics, male and female. The female notices her first.

"Mam? Can you hear me?" Urgency is pronounced in her voice, but all she can see is her pale lips moving . Emma notices the sweet smell of her perfume, the cleanness of her long blond hair twisted in a bun at the top of her head, the wrinkles that engrave itself into her face. There are lots of laugh lines on her. _Must be a happy person,_ she thinks even as she's panicked. Her pale blue eyes show much kindness and wisdom. _Older woman. Past adult hood and moving into being a senior. Any age between 50-60._ These deductions calm her mind.

Deductions are a thing she learned to do after reading the original Sherlock series. They made her quite curious, and she wanted to see the world the way Sherlock Holmes does. The Science of Deduction doesn't seem so complex once you practice it and apply it to your daily life. She tried to teach the little trick to Marilou, but she just never got the hang of it.

"Joey, patient is conscious! She appears to be panicked." Emma Turns to look at this 'Joey' character. African-America. Brown eyes. Clean shoved hair. Posture is tense. Appears to be relatively short. 5'7 at most. Younger than the woman, looks to be in his mid-thirties. A ring on his hand suggests marriage. Ring from her position looks clean and cherished. A happy relationship. _Good for him._

Emma suddenly loses the energy keeping her eyes opening, and her lids grow heavier with each passing second. Frantic heartbeat echoes in her ears, slowing down at a rather quick rate.

 _Why is this happening to me?_

 _ **Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump**_

 _I'm scared, so very, very scared._

"Mam! Stay awake! We're losing you!" It's Joey's voice this time. It's low and baritone. Surprisingly soothing. "Lyndi, get the-" Emma loses her grip on the real world and her eyes wordlessly slip closed again.

 _Oh god, please don't let me die._

 _ **Ba-dump, ba-dump….**_

 _Someone please save me._

A loud beeping noise feels the moving ambulance as Joey and Lyndi attempt to bring her back. It takes multiple jolts on the defibrillator to bring her jolts are bound to leave very painful sores on her chest when she wakes up once more. Later, when Emma is in the hospital she flatlines once more. They save her again after almost losing her.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: Thank you very much for your follows, favorites, and reviews! All of them have been so complementary so fans of TQTOR, I should have that updated by tomorrow. Remember to drop off an OC for me~**

I wish someone would turn that damned beeping thing off. It's highly irritating and rouses me from a long, dark slumber. At first it's the only thing that captured my attention. It's steady, constant, and just down right murder on the ears. It doesn't register in my head that I'm in a hospital until I feel a sharp stinging sensation on my chest and on the back of my head. A thick layer of gauze is wrapped tightly around the whole top of my head. I really hope they didn't shave my hair. It took me quite a while to grow it at the perfect length, and about 20$ worth of hair dye to get it the perfect shade of auburn.

The fear of losing my hair aside, the smell of disinfectant is burning my nose. It's far too strong. I bet it's against some sort of health code. Wouldn't be the first time I received poor treatment in a hospital, and it probably won't be the last. I can't help but to wonder what exactly put me here. Me and Marilou were most likely playing another game of soccer. The girl is obsessed with the idiotic sport, and tends to drag me along with her. I don't know how, but she just made two-person soccer work.

I must have tripped over my own feet or something, because I'm a clumsy like that. Add to the fact that I'm extremely unathletic, I'm surprised that Mari hasn't accidently killed me yet. Maybe she did and this is my Hell, a hospital. Well, no that's really unlikely. Everything is too vivid, from the sound of rolling wheels outside my door (curtains? I'm unsure. I have yet to open my eyes in fear of what I'll see.) to the scratchy blankets. Not death. Not a dream.

Mari isn't in the room, neither is my family nor hers. Either all of them don't care, or all of them are in the building somewhere. How incredibly rude of them, to just wonder off while I'm in the hospital. I swear to god when I see them again I will personally strangle them all. Tie them up and make each of them watch as I choke their loved ones. Actually, that's pretty gruesome. Even for me.

The door swiftly opens and my eyes snap open. Quickly I look at the figure standing in the doorway, looking over some charts. He's old. Like, _ancient._ I deduce somewhere around seventy. Dude should retire. Married, but wife (or husband) is most likely deceased. Probably has a grandkid or two. Not much I can tell other than the fact he's had a restless sleep. The lab coat he wears makes it hard to tell anything else.

Hey! I'm alright at deduction, but I'm not _that_ great yet. Only a teenager, remember? I still have a long ways to go thank you very much.

Awkwardly, I cough to gain his attention. Gandalf appears to be shocked, and gives me a startled look. Obviously he was not expecting me to be awake. "Oh! Um, hello there!" Oh god, can he make this anymore awkward than this already is? British people man!

Wait. When was there ever a british doctor working here? It's only a local hospital so I can't imagine him being a transfer.

"Sup'" I respond casually, trying to ignore the roughness of my voice or how sore it is. I didn't even notice until I opened my mouth. He opens his mouth in order to respond.

"So you're American? The fingerprints haven't come back yet so we have no way to identify you. What brings you to Britain?" I choke on what little saliva is in my mouth.

"Hold up old dude," I croak and he looks too concerned to be offended. Most likely gets it a lot. Poor dude. Now I feel hopelessly guilty. Still, no apologies from this gal. "Britain? Aren't we in North Carolina? United States of America" Gandolf gives me a look that makes me feel stupid.

"I'm sorry, miss…" He trails off, waiting for my name.

"Emma."

"Miss Emma, but you're in central London right now. Is that where you're from?" Weakly, I nod. "Well, they found you on Twenty-Second street with blood everywhere. Thought you were dead, that they did." He tsks slightly and looks at me, calculating look on his face.

"Okay, Dr Gandalf -"

"Dr Pomenstrii "

" _Dr Gandalf_ , I'm not insane and I sure as hell don't have amnesia" Pomenstrii opens his mouth. I don't let him respond. "And I'm _not_ in denial. This must be some sort of prank. Have to admit, nice set up though. Really pu-"

"Miss Emma, I understand you're a bit startled to be here, but clearly you're just frightened. Worry not, for your memories will most likely come back." I glare at him and give him the finger. He does actually look a bit offended and this small victory settles happily in my stomach.

"Not an amnesia patient, thank you very much. And I'm really, quite honestly speaking here, _not in denial."_ I retort and he just sighs wearily. Something tells me that I'm not his first Rodeo.

"Whatever satisfies you. Now," He flashes me his clipboard, I'm going to need to ask you some questions. First off, You're Last name, and then your middle." The thought of lying to him seems shamefully appealing to me, but I already gave up part of my first name. Kinda takes away the whole secrecy thing.

The questions aren't to elaborate or personal. He asked medical related thing only in translated them into American when I didn't understand what he was saying. I refuse to feel stupid because it's not my fault I was born with American terminology and phrases. Personally, I think they should offer a course of American culture for anyone learning medics in the U.K.

Everything seems so boring and dull, and quickly Gandalf's voice becomes boring too. I'm about to be swallowed whole by my own mind, and then something strange happens. Mark Gatiss walks into the room like the boss he is and my jaw drops to the floor.

What in the world?


End file.
